


pastels (roses, lilies)

by Liffis



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Gen, Kneeling, M/M, Platonic BDSM, Subspace, hair petting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liffis/pseuds/Liffis
Summary: Now that he's thirty, he's supposed to have a nice dom and settle down and whatnot.He wouldn't even be against that, except he has no dom - and everyone's been grinding down on him mercilessly to just find someone, anyone. Which makes it almost impossible to relax enough to meet a dom, really.And then management suggests a deal between Nate and him: some platonic kneeling.





	pastels (roses, lilies)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crispierchip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crispierchip/gifts).



> Yeah, this was born due to The Gif Set Of EJ Wearing A Collar - Wait He Does WHAT Now????  
> Because, yeah, he really does. And then @crispierchip reblogged it with these truly excellent tags and from then on the plotbunny was born. Yeah. And then this fic happened. Truly, the idea is just too darn good to let it go without writing much, much more.
> 
> Despite the tag of BDSM and the rating of M, this is basically just emotional, and EJ-centric and platonic kneeling. Rating's due to the heaviness of a BDSM!AU. But everything is very consensual.
> 
> PS: Fic's locked to registered users, because I think I'd legit die of humiliation if certain hockey players immediately stumbled across this when putting their name into a search engine (and/or if they posted it to their twitter or smth). At least like this they need an account.

Ever since his 30th birthday, management’s been hounding EJ even worse than usual. Not that they hadn’t been bad before that – they had -, but since then, it’s grown so much worse. It’s like they expect him to magic a dom out of thin air just by the sheer force of having had his birthday. As if proper doms grew on trees, ready to be plucked off at a moment’s notice.

He hates it. Has hated it before that, already, but this is so much worse. If he had a dom, he would’ve long since brought him. To meetings, to team get-togethers, to parties, anything, it’s not like he’s ever been the kind of sub to just…keep things a secret. He likes his friends and colleagues to meet his dom, has always liked it, always being proud of being a sub. Just because he’s never had an endless chain of doms lining up to put him on his knees doesn’t mean he struggles with being a sub or dislikes it or anything. 

It’s just…difficult for him to find a dom. Someone who’s feeling right, who’s accepting that he plays a high-contact sports that also takes up a lot of time and will leave bruises on him. For some reason, the whole issue with bruises left by other people had been the straw to break the camel’s back for the last two doms. EJ has no idea why that is a thing, because from the top of his head he can think of several very nice options to – solve this issue, but then, he’s no dom, despite being faced with this topic basically every single day since his birthday.

And the media is on it, too, an unholy combination of management and media hounding him, asking him the very same questions every single day, like clockwork. 

Of course he is required to stay polite – as much as he can, no lie, it’s not like he’s gonna keep himself leashed up when answering them. Except now, they subtly shake their heads at his answers, at his humour, at his laugh, at the way he’ll meet the camera and the journalists’ eyes. They shake their heads and tsk and send their tallest and broadest doms to interview him –

As if that could cow him into obedience. He’s been forced to deal with alphas even before he’d realized he was a sub, and ever since that particular wake-up call, he’s had to work twice as hard to not drop on his knees for every dom that made this part of himself sing. Suffice to say, he has experience in locking his knees and keeping his spine stiff and meeting their eyes. 

But now that he’s beyond the acceptable age, it is not okay anymore, apparently. 

By the second week, Gabe takes mercy on him and subtly shuffles over, taking the interviews. Of course, media gobbles it right up: a dom captain taking interviews for his sub teammate? That’s the ticket. 

EJ pretends not to notice how they ask Gabe the most ridiculous questions, as if they can’t see the big, fat rings around his wrists and the gaping emptiness around EJ’s throat. Doesn’t matter, they still spin the story and blow it all up, how he’s greedy and selfish and putting his claim on his captain without taking anything in turn and isn’t that just typical of subs?

Gabe almost falls over in laughter reading the story to him, once it’s published.

Before his birthday, EJ would’ve agreed – it’s hilarious, Gabe’s been bounded as soon as Tyson and him had told eachother -, but now…the more he’s confronted with the whole topic, the worse it is. He isn’t immune to this, all this talking about a dom and getting collared and – and all of it, really, it’s touching parts of him he’d very carefully locked down. Because subs didn’t play hockey, or, if they did, they played not as much, not as long, because in the end, what the dom wanted was what mattered, right? 

And if the dom didn’t want EJ to play hockey, he couldn’t forbid him to – laws made sure of that one at least -, but he could make it difficult. Could deny EJ things, things he wanted, and sooner or later EJ would bow, he knew himself. Once he’d had someone close to – his heart, or something, he was too lenient on them. At some point, sooner or later, he’d realize, of course, but he’d at least consider it, for a second. If it was worth giving up or at least reducing hockey if it meant keeping an otherwise great dom –

He was joking all the time, about doms, but that didn’t change the fact that he struggled to find doms matching him. Since his orientation had come in, he’d had less than half a dozen doms, and that even included the professional, platonic doms. Not something he was particularly proud of.

But it was just so difficult to get on his knees and stay there and trust the dom to work it all out for him. He was used to hockey and being under pressure and tension and getting slammed into the boards – because wasn’t that fun, slamming the sub into the boards and force him to go under? What a great fun! – So he had steeled himself against that and gotten used to stay on his mind and – and not many doms had managed to take him out of that.   
Trust was the main issue, for him, to just get on his knees and trust his dom to take him through the scene. To give all this power, willingly, to someone else and be oh so sure it wouldn’t be misplaced, that the right person had it, carried it, wielded it carefully. Would go as far as he would go, knowing him as well as he knew himself – or almost as much. It’s…a lot to ask.

Needless to say, even if he wanted, he couldn’t present management a proper dom. A professional one, perhaps, he still has one or two of the professional doms saved in his phone contacts. But they didn’t take on long-term contracts – professional doms rarely did, or at least those he signed up with. 

The more he is pressured to finally find a dom, the more he clams up, the more difficult it gets to just – meet a dom, find out where a nice evening might take them, whatever, anything. But even meeting someone has him remember: this is to find a long-term dom, this has to be serious, it must be something real –

It ruins whatever chance he might’ve had. He’d have to calm down to go under or get lucky and have a dom put him down and under, and they don’t. Can’t. Whatever. He gets out of the scenes feeling worse than before, scraped raw and exhausted. None of them is even close to take him out of his mind. 

Just once, he’d like a dom who – 

But that’s useless. He’s a sub, he’s over thirty, so the amount of wishes he’s allowed to make is laughably low. 

What he wants, that doesn’t matter. Maybe it had, a little bit, before his thirtieth. But since then: it really, really doesn’t.

His birthday doesn’t magically provide a solution, doesn’t plop the perfect one into his lap. Doms and him don’t mix well and just because now he has added pressure to find one doesn’t magically change this.

What does change it, in the end, is a coincidence – and a proposal by the management. When they tell him, he’s tempted to refuse outright, to just say: he’s got it under control, even though that’s a filthy lie and everyone knows, because it’s been months and he’s still single and still dom-less in every kind of way. It’s gotten so bad that not only management is getting desperate – it’s that he’s tempted.   
He doesn’t want to be without a dom, not after being tempted with it like this for months now, after getting morsels of this feeling, of how it could be –

On basic principle, he still wants to disagree, though. Say no, because nothing is worse than having someone he doesn’t trust with, well, him being a sub, matchmaking him. 

Matchmaking is only alright if it’s a friend, someone he trusted, on a…, well, emotional level. Someone he’d have drinks with and tell crappy jokes and know that it wouldn’t change a thing, in the end, just as him being a sub didn’t change a thing. Those people, those who knew him, who really knew him – him, EJ, the person, not just EJ the sub – those could. And of those, no one had tried matchmaking, not even once in all this time, despite seeing how much it all had been tiring him out.

So when management proposes it, he just pulls his polite sub smile and nods at the right moments and gets out of there as fast as possible – 

And stumbles right into Nate, who’s waiting outside, apparently pacing the floor like a tiger locked up in a cage. 

\- if he had any doubt Nate was in with this bullshit, the guilty smile would’ve rapidly convinced him otherwise. Because Nate grimaces and loweres his gaze and that is typical dom bullshit when they knew they had done something and wanted to make amends and EJ hates how much it works in that moment. Fuck, he really does need a dom, if even this makes his knees as wobbly as this.

But Nate doesn’t force him, doesn’t force the whole issue, period, and that’s…something. 

At first, EJ expects him to. Surely management has given him the very same spiel about the issue. Taking one for the team, or whatever. 

Because EJ knows full well how doms are, and they are definitely not – like this. Or at least he hasn’t met any dom who is waiting like this, waiting for him to decide. And that shouldn’t be as thrilling as it is, but it is, it so, so much is, to have this…not quite power. Power is stupid and not something subs have, just like that, over doms.

Rather: to be the one who decided. Who would call the shots. That was dom territory. Subs never got this much, or if they did, it was with their long-term dom, after careful relationship negotiations.

So the fact that Nate keeps silent and doesn’t pressure, doesn’t treat him any different in the locker room nor on the ice nor anywhere else, really, is what convinces EJ in the end to at least try it, once. Subbing for a teammate doesn’t have to be awkward, if it’s done right and they talk it out before.

Which they do – as soon as they have a few days off, they talk about it. Or, actually, it doesn’t even take them that long. Maybe half an hour, because shockingly, surprisingly, they are very much on the same page, it’s weird. EJ has never had a dom who just…went with things as easily. Not to say that Nate agreed with everything he proposed, but – he didn’t try to dom him, not even casually, not even once or in passing. He just…treated EJ – not normally, because he’s a sub and Nate’s a dom and there would never be a world where they just…were. But as normal as they could be, considering the circumstances. 

So it’s easy to agree to this. One afternoon. Long enough that it should work out for both of them – whatever Nate’s getting from this, EJ isn’t sure, but Nate had seemed relieved, too. As much as EJ, really, to just have this. It’s - strange to think that doms might need this, too, that it wasn’t just subs wanting and needing this. 

None of this changes the fact that it feels weird to visit Nate, knowing full well that he’d spend the afternoon on his knees. For a teammate. It’s been ages since he’s done that with a friend, and back then it had been – well. It almost had been Something, but that hadn’t worked out. He’d been much younger, back then, and much less sure on what he wanted, who he was, as a sub. Who and what he wanted in a dom, and he’d let too much pass just to keep some kind of dom for himself. 

Nate looks even more nervous than during their talk. A subtle kind of nervousness, the way he hovers in the door, waiting for him to take off his shoes and jacket. Not domming him, not quite. But he is getting there, this was – something. What kind of dom is Nate, one that took care of his subs? 

Because he doesn’t check for EJ to put his shoes down perfectly or hang up his jacket, all of it neatly and tidily, like some doms expect Good And Proper Subs to behave. EJ checks, subtly – his shoes are messily shoved into a free corner of the shoe rack, and his jacket is all wonky.

Nate doesn’t care, he just…well, seems to be vibrating with tension, really. Biting his lips and nails and balancing on his feet and in general absolutely unable to stay still.

Maybe he’s as nervous as EJ feels?

He follows him into the living room –

\- and it’s nice. It’s really nice. 

It’s warm, and there are a lot of blankets piled on the couch and there’s a huge pillow on the floor, and water bottles and some light, easy food on the table and some more pillows halfway hidden behind the blankets –

The last time a dom has gone out as much as this for EJ has….been a long, long time ago. Perhaps never. Surely never for a simple platonic kneeling, for sure. He couldn’t remember ever getting – well, treated this much, basically, just for some platonic sceneing. Doms didn’t do that, or at least he hadn’t met any who did, so far.

But Nate means it, that becomes very clear very quickly

They go over what they’ve agreed on – one afternoon, nothing beyond EJ kneeling for him and Nate petting his hair and playing with it. When proposing that one, Nate had seemed sheepish, as if he was fully aware he was being silly but couldn’t help wanting it despite everything.

EJ had wanted all of it back then and he does want it now, still, so he agrees, easily.

Nate looks him in the eyes – and nods.

His voice is quiet, when he orders EJ to kneel and get comfortable. But it’s a dom’s voice, calm and quiet and the order so easy to follow, clear. 

He drops to his knees on one of the big pillows, fully aware of Nate’s gaze on him. As if he’s the only thing in the world that exists for him in this moment. It feels like a deep breath, a big gulp of icy water after being parched for too long: he kneels. 

“Good.”, Nate says, “Forehead against my knee.”

Nate doesn’t even need to order him what to do, and his voice left no doubt that he was sure EJ would do it. Of course he would. Nate knew he would. 

Oh, he’d forgotten how good it feels. He’s missed it. It’s too easy to fall into it, this feeling, this everything. Being the focus of a dom, like this, voice wrapping around him; in this moment, it’s so easy. He wants a lot, wants a lot more and it could be even greater, there is so much they could do, EJ can picture it almost –

A slightly sharp pain wrenches him from the thoughts, he looks up into Nate’s eyes.

Nate doesn’t seem angry – merely focused on him and noticing him spiralling. 

“Focus on kneeling for me.”, he orders and EJ takes a deep breath.

That’s one of the biggest orders he could receive, because that’s exactly what he struggles with the most. Just kneeling and doing nothing else is difficult for him, because despite loving it, he’s not made for it. For ages, he hasn’t had a dom to, well, do this, practise this with. 

And his everyday job requires him to be fast and quick and always thrumming with energy. Dealing with the press requires him to be tense and always cautious. Same with management and anyone else in charge. Dealing with dom expects him to stand his ground without alienating them, without out-domming them. It’s exhausting and has him wired up in tension and makes his thoughts spiral –

Again, a grip in his hair. This time, Nate doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t need to.

EJ huffs out a breath, dropping his head lower. Nate bumps his other leg closer, bringing his knees close enough that EJ could comfortably lean his forehead against both of them, if he wanted. And he does want.

He settles down and breathes out and leans his head between Nate’s knees. It should be intimate – or even sexual. 

It isn’t.

Instead, for the first time in a long, long time, his shoulders feel looser. Dropping a weight he hadn’t known he had been carrying. Lighter, in a way. It feels good. Like this, he doesn’t have to think of anything; hockey worries are so far away. He doesn’t have to worry about management or reporters or anything else harping on and about how he’s a defective sub, how his tastes are too “particular to attract a dom”, how he’s broken, how he “needs to put in his place”, or whatever kind of bullshit –

Grip in his hair –

He turns his face slightly.

Nate’s gaze is still on him. He returns to his position, lowering his own gaze to the ground. Nate is still looking at him, not distractedly doing anything else but looking at him, he’s sure. Can feel it on him. 

Nate is looking at him. Him! His hand in EJ’s hair is big and warm and staying where it is, not combing through strands. 

He breathes out. 

And in.

The pillow under his knees is soft, yet firm enough that he’s comfortable. Nate’s hand stays where it is. Not pulling his hair – it’s just there. A weight on top of his head, buried in his hair. Just there.

Another breath. This time, he exhales longer and he can feel his shoulders droop slightly in relaxation. Nate mumbles something and his thumb starts rubbing circles into EJ’s skin. Playing with his hair.

He sighs, turning is head just slightly so he can rest more comfortably against Nate’s knees. It’s rewarded with a gentle touch to his temple, before Nate keeps on playing with his hair. 

Whatever he’s been thinking, it all slowly drips away, like melting wax off of a candle. No match against kneeling at Nate’s feet and doing nothing except staying with him, focusing on the hand gently scratching his scalp. Listening to Nate’s breaths, calm and relaxed and deep.

EJ can still feel Nate’s gaze on him. Of all the things Nate could focus on, of everything Nate could do – it doesn’t matter, because Nate is ignoring all of them and looking at him. Because he matters to him, he’s important, Nate cares. And makes sure he’s okay.

Staying on his knees is easy like this.

Time trickles into nothing – doesn’t matter, really. He just has to stay on his knees and that’s it, because Nate would tell him if he had anything else to do or if he was doing it wrong, but Nate is keeping silent and just pets his hair, so he has to do it right. 

He is doing good. He is doing good, just like this.

Nothing else matters as much as that.

There’s a voice, barely above a whisper, and it takes him a moment to place it. Nate.

\- Did he do something wrong?

But before he can jolt, tense up – Nate’s hand keeps up its touches, now migrating to his face, finger tips brushing over his cheeks and jaw. 

So it has to be okay. Whatever he’s done, it’s okay, right, because Nate is still…touching him like this.

“EJ”, he can make out, from far, far away.

He turns away and some strands are brushed out of his face.

“EJ, come back.”

It’s not quite an order, more of a – claim. That he’d do it. Of course he would. Nate told him to.

He blinks.

Sighs.

“There you are. Take your time. You did good. Take your time, EJ.”

Deep breath, with his face turned towards Nate’s knees again. It’s slightly darker.

The feeling for his own body grows slowly, as if he has to re-learn himself from nothing, has to grow feeling back into a lump of flesh and bones. It jolts, wherever he’d been flying, now brought back into this stillness.

He’s on his knees and his lower legs are tingling, like static. Shoulders and back ache, from being slumped forward like this. Thirsty. He’s thirsty, parched.

Some kind of noise must’ve escaped him, because suddenly, Nate is shifting.

“Here, drink something.”

Nate holds out a cup of something for him, and he looks at it, blinks, what is he supposed to -?

And Nate just huffs out a small laugh – not mean, not at him, rather he’s amused, before gently tipping the cup against EJ’s lips. 

EJ drinks. Water. Cool water, and it’s so good, he gulps it down greedily.

“You can have more, calm.”, Nate says, but his voice carries no reprimand, nothing saying that EJ made a mistake. 

Instead, EJ gets another cup full of water, again it is tipped against his lips, just so that EJ can drink it without any problems, without spilling any.

After he’s finished that one, Nate combs through his hair and EJ’s eyes slip shut –

“Hey, stay here with me, EJ, okay?”

Nate’s other hand gently raises EJ’s chin so it’s easy for him to look directly into Nate’s face. There’s a smile on Nate’s lips, like he’s happy. Like EJ did good.

It makes him smile, too. 

He feels really light and still only halfway here, and it’s a good feeling. 

“Let’s get you up here. Come on.”

Following Nate’s half-order is more difficult than he expects – he wants to, and he tries, but his body doesn’t cooperate: his legs flare alive from having fallen asleep, and he feels overall wobbly and not quite like he has himself under control. Guessing where he ends and the rest of the world starts and managing that is – a lot –

But Nate helps him getting up, and thankfully he doesn’t have to go far, and then he’s already draped on the couch just how Nate wants him to be. It’s warm and smells nice. 

For a moment, Nate is gone – but before he can worry, there’s more and soft warmth covering his legs, hips, upper body – and then Nate climbs in next to him, head on EJ’s chest, arm wrapped around his stomach, and the blanket settles around them. 

“You did good, EJ. Let’s sleep some. I’m here.”

Nate’s leg is across his hips and thighs, and he’s half-buried under Nate’s heavy weight anchoring him. Right here. Lying down. Under blankets and warmth and weight and he did good. Nate’s here. 

So he closes his eyes and it takes him barely a moment to doze off.


End file.
